


Verklempt

by papayamaru



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Denial of Feelings, Fluff and Smut, Friendship/Love, Gay Sex, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, Shower Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 03:25:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11912208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papayamaru/pseuds/papayamaru
Summary: [def] verklempt'fuhr-klempt/adjective.choked up ; completely overcome with emotion.a short story, in which a Swiss man's misfortune leads to more than just chit-chat when an old friend offers him shelter from the rain. both harbour pent-up emotions tainted by memories, just screaming to be released; though the two remain reluctant, their lips sealed by pride and fear over whether or not such feelings are mutual.however even the most stubborn bud must someday bloom.this story will involve tea, quarrels, childhood friendships gone astray, envy, angst over cheese and a bedroom floor very much covered in clothes.





	1. Always Read The Weather Warning.

**Author's Note:**

> this was my first ever edelweiss-pair fic and it honestly holds a very dear place in my heart —because i get sentimental like that.
> 
> you can also find this on Wattpad under the same title and username!
> 
> thankyou for reading ❤︎
> 
>  
> 
> NON-ENGLISH VOCAB:
> 
> Gott = god
> 
> Mein Gott = my god
> 
> Bitte = please
> 
> Leib = cute/sweet/(my) love
> 
> Dummkopt = idiot (lit. "idiot head")
> 
> Gopfertammi = god, damn me!
> 
> Huere = fuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just notifying —for a smut, this is a bit long. there is a lot of story/plot behind everything, but don't worry! it's all worth it.

Vash growled in discordance, his numb fingers fumbling into themselves as he stood before a certain Austrian's front door. Icy rain hammered down upon his shoulders, prompting subtle shivers and various rubs against the damp fabric of his trench coat. He'd already been burdened enough with the weight of a day's grocery shopping before the heavens had opened and bled like a fresh wound. And it didn't help that the Swiss man had ventured a little too far into his neighbouring country, which was something he'd never have dreamed of . . . if only it weren't for the fact his sister had desired a specific kind of Austrian cheese that day.

_How tiresome._

A devilish pair of lavender irises traced Vash's own as he pondered.

_Why did I come here? This man. He can't possibly help me in any way._

"I don't think I need to repeat myself," the Austrian's accent coaxed. "The rain isn't due to stop for several hours —and don't think you'll find sanctuary from it in the open fields."

Eventually —and with a reluctant air, Vash let his eyes fall over the other man's face tucked away on the dryer side of the door frame. "I don't quite fancy staying with the likes of you. You've wasted your time calling me over —and wasting is a terrible thing," he said bluntly.

Roderich countered his tone with a brief huff, eyeing the many bags Vash was carrying. "Hmph. I'd say you should be grateful for me offering you shelter; isn't your situation a little dire?"

"Dire? The only thing dire is your needy want for company. You'll probably make me do all the tidying for you the minute I've stepped in," Vash retorted. He wiped a dripping hand through his matted, blond fringe. He tried to conceal the fact that he was —in all honesty, rather envious of the warm breath about the other man's abode; it was dry and quiet and oddly cosy, the hint of a woman's touch still lingering about its interior.

 _But I daren't stay at such a place,_ Vash thought. _Not with him. How dare he invite me over —the nerve!_

The two had been childhood friends, though drifted astray over account of one's alleged laziness —and the other's cold heart. It'd been numerous years since they'd shared proper conversation, or even exchanged greetings. Now and again the forever-disinclined Vash and Roderich would cross an occasional path at the World Conference meeting, but such circumstances never lead to anything more than coincidental eye-contact and a flustered turn of the shoulder. Both had grown distant in ways more than physical.

Through, something still remained. Something neither had managed to place a finger on.

The Austrian sighed. "I know I haven't exactly been the most sustained since Elizabeth left. Keeping on top of things and organising can be a little tedious when you're so used to the extra pair of hands," his voice grew exasperated. "But no, I won't make you do any tidying. How could I expect such a notion? Considering you hate me, anyway."

"Indeed."

Roderich's lips curled into a soft smile. "But you know if you stay here with me just for a short while you'll surely save on your own resources."

That little word had Vash's head spinning circles; save. He took a pause. _Saving is a wonderful thing,_ he thought. _Very wonderful._

What now bound the two was only a single, dainty thread —a thread often called An Inordinate Love For Money. Both were infamous by their lust for those small pieces of lavish paper; banknotes. And saving happened to be Switzerland's specialty —renowned banker that he was.

"I'll boil the kettle and make tea, if you'd like," Austria continued. "Therefore you'll save on your water and electricity. Is that not a good bargain?"

"I suppose," Vash said, sniffling against the cold air. "Though why on earth do you want me at your house, if not for some sort of help?"

"It isn't often you stop by, so I was intrigued. And taking into account the dreadful weather I just felt concerned for the health of an old frie—"

"We aren't friends," Vash cut him, prompting a raised eyebrow from the Austrian. "And it's none of your business why I've stopped by. I just needed a few things."

Cheese. He'd needed cheese.

"You could've informed me beforehand."

"Well I didn't."

"Why not?"

"I didn't want to."

"Hmpf. How reckless."

". . .whatever."

Roderich yawned; whether it were an action of sass or not, Vash couldn't tell. "Well, other matters aside —will you consider my proposal? I must say you're awfully soaked."

The Swiss wore a look of defeat as he shuffled upon the moistened doormat. His clothes hung heavily upon his short body, clinging to every nook and cranny. "Fine. I'll stay at your place, only until the rain stops," he said. "Because saving is important."

Austria did quite well to mask the sudden delight he felt. "Certainly."

Vash gingerly took a few paces in as the other man held his door ajar. He was greeted by the musk of powdered violets and something sugary —something savoury, pleasant. Though he wasn't one to compliment another on the scents of their home —such an action was ridiculous.

Roderich closed the door, muffling the vigorous patter of rain outside.

"I need somewhere to put my things," Vash said, a little testily. "Where's the place you store your crap? Or should I say, food."

There was a loud tut. "My food isn't much different from yours, you know," said Roderich, sighing a second time. "The kitchen is down the hall, through the first door on the right. Take care not to scruff up my carpets."

"Tsk," Vash had already turned at the word 'hall' and was thumping his way across Austria's floorboards. _Don't scruff up my carpets —how pathetic._

The hall was generously decorated —encrusted with an array of portrait paintings and not-so-recent photographs. Several were of a sophisticated man and a woman who wore a single flower in her wavy hair, all professionally taken in either sepia or monotone. Though some only showed the woman, as if she were some jewel to be put on grandeur display. Vash recognised her all too well.

It'd been two years since Roderich's wife, Elizabeth left him. Vash had never thought much of her; he'd always found the woman a tad too boisterous, with a hardy and almost tomboyish demeanour. He also often found himself concerned on the influence she had on his little sister whenever they'd held one of their girlish hang-outs. But of course, it wasn't like he were ever jealous of the Hungarian lady —living with Austria, that is. Vash didn't get preoccupied with petty inner-quarrels such as jealously —no, not him.

_Though I'm glad they've gone separate paths, _he suddenly found himself thinking._ It's best for him to learn independence this way. Just a pity he keeps around these boorish pictures._

_. . . Not that I care._

He'd found the kitchen. It wasn't dreadfully messy, though slightly unkempt with a few assets coated in a thin layer of silver dust, as if they hadn't been touched in a while —such as the stove and a cupboard where Vash figured the pots and frying pans were kept. Though to his vague pleasure, nothing was grimy or greasy and the place still had a certain class to it; a very Roderich sort of class. The walls were a delicate purple and over the window there hung a pair of long and white, elegant drapes. They reminded him of a certain ruffled necktie the egotistical Austrian often sported.

 _Fuck._ Vash scolded himself at the fact he was still lingering over the image of that man. _Though I suppose it's only usual, as I'm in his house. It's been a rather long time._

He shook his head and set five grocery-stuffed paper bags atop Austria's kitchen counter, tucked close against the wall. All were full to the brim with only the most affordable goods —as Vash very much liked to get his money's worth, whilst simultaneously spending as little as possible. A skill he'd donned since practically birth.

"You've made a hefty purchase," a familiar tone remarked.

Vash swivelled round with a grunt, eyeing Roderich who leaned upon the kitchen table. "Yes, and I'll have you know it all cost me barely twenty of your euros," he said. Though he didn't want to admit that amounted to around twenty-two of his own currency.

"Impressive," Roderich hummed.

"Why're you in here? If you've come for petty small-talk then you'll only be disappointed," the Swiss said harshly.

Roderich raised an arm to tousle the unruly, dark hair which sprouted from his head. It was rather more ragged than what Vash was used to seeing. "I came in to make the tea, actually."

Vash bit his lip. "Oh. Is that so." He felt slightly stupid.

Roderich continued. "You're happy with normal? I don't suppose you prefer any of England's fancier kinds, like Earl Grey or Georgian blend. He insisted on me trying them the other day, however."

"Hopefully you didn't give in and actually pay the man for that nonsense," Vash wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Just normal for me."

"Alright. I suppose I'll have the same," Roderich said. He then turned to rummage through a collection of tins and tea bags, which were neatly kept in a glass-topped case on the counter. Already, Vash could the smell exotic flavours and earthy hues from various crushed plants and herbs. There was all kinds: from camomile and cranberry to Moroccan mint. It all seemed a little obscure for him —especially the fact that people would happily pay double-price for a specific blend.

_Why not keep simply with standard tea? So unnecessary._

Roderich smiled to himself whilst he flicked through the box's contents, as if sensing the Swiss man's disapproval. "Don't worry, England gave me these free of charge," he assured. "A gift from one fancy man to another."

Vash scoffed at that. "Whatever. Don't talk to me."

 _Ah. He's still his usual self,_ Roderich thought. For some reason though, the smile remained on his lips. Maybe he liked that —the fact Vash had never changed who he was. He was always honest and not afraid to speak the truth, even if it wasn't the most pleasant thing to hear. It did bother him slightly however, by the fact Vash had such a soft spot for that younger sister of his; she was always treated with his utmost softness, always guarded so dearly. Admittedly, Liechtenstein was perhaps the most adorable person Roderich had ever met —but that didn't quieten such feelings. What's more was that Liech had stayed with him, ever since Vash took her in on that bleak and raining night.

_Oh, do shut up Roderich. You mustn't think so enviously of them._

Switzerland had wandered to the window at the far end of Austria's kitchen to peer through the glass. The sky was grey and rain had arguably worsened since before; it could be heard as a distant rumble, like it were a raging beast all too happy to have confined its victims to the walls of their homes. Behind him there was the clinking and rattle of porcelain cups and heavy drawers —the sounds of Roderich's kitchen. Neither the situation outside, nor inside were ideal to him.

Vash's mind concerned for Liechtenstein and whether she'd be alright just for a while longer, without him there. "This is ridiculous," he mumbled to himself. "I shouldn't be pratting about. Austria's house of all places."

The rising pop and gurgle of a kettle brought both men back to their composure. Austria was silent as he loomed over it, waiting patiently. He'd already prepared two cups with tea and a spoonful of sugar, which sat on the counter side-by-side. Looking at them made Vash suddenly feel strange.

"Do you do this often?" The Swiss man asked.

_Wait. Why am I sparking conversation?_

Roderich spoke without looking at him. "I used to. Not as much recently though —tea was usually Elizabeth's specialty around the house when she started living here."

"I see."

"Does Liechtenstein make tea for you back at your place?"

"Yes, sometimes."

Austria nodded. "That's nice. How is she doing?"

"Quite well, thankyou for asking." Vash rubbed his shoulder, then floundered at how cold and wet the fabric still was —it'd even dripped upon Roderich's kitchen floor. "Is there somewhere I could put my coat?"

"Yes, there's a hook near the front door," said Roderich, before glancing down dismissively. "You can put your shoes there, too. I insist."

Vash grew flustered, realising the trail of dirt he'd brought in unintentionally. "Fine," he said, and walked out.

 _The audacity of this man._ He —Austria, was always so meticulous about things, always complaining and complaining. Vash huffed inwardly, _I wonder if it ever got on Elizabeth's nerves._

Meanwhile, Roderich waited. He stood quietly as the kettle began to hiss and squeal, expelling a cloud of hot steam —which the Austrian swiftly stepped away from to avoid. But his attention was then caught by a certain paper bag. It was one of Vash's, practically bursting with produce; however something curious protruded from its flimsy brim. _Cheese?_

He sauntered away from the kettle to take an intrusive peak at what Switzerland had bought. And his suspicions had proved correct. What lay snugly between a tin of hot chocolate and several granola bars was a long cut of Austrian smoked cheese, wrapped in the fashion which made it resemble a sausage at first glance. How interesting, he thought. He'd never seen Vash eat or even purchase the kind before.

Amongst other items were butter, cereals, numerous cartons of Alpine Milch and quite possibly about seven bars of different chocolates —if he were to make a rough guess. The Swiss individual had always been drenched in favour for the moorish confectionery, even being a master in making it.

"What're you doing?" A stern tone slammed into Roderich from behind, causing him to flush a bright red. Vash had returned, sporting only a dampened shirt and his loose, green trousers, secured with a belt.

The brunet cleared his throat. "Sorry. I was just curious as to what you'd purchased," he said. "After all, it must've been important for you to come all the way out here."

Vash grumbled. "That cheese it for Liechtenstein, I'll have you know. I wouldn't normally consider buying such an atrocity."

"Ah, so that's why. You came out here for _her,"_ Austria cooled down a little, paying no mind to the fact Switzerland had just called his cheese atrocious. "I should've suspected as much."

"Why do you have to be so nosy?" Vash complained. "Has anyone ever told you to mind your own business?"

"Well you're in my country, therefore I'd like to think it is my business."

"So I suppose I have to tell you exactly why I'm visiting, whenever I'm visiting?"

"That would make me happier, yes," Roderich folded his arms, looking down on the shorter man. "Aren't you all about the same sort of morals?"

"You're such a pedantic," Vash said, glancing away frustratedly. "Quit looking at my things and make the tea already."

They shared a moment of disgruntled expression. Without another word Austria then returned to the hot kettle, tendrils of steam licking from its opening as he poured the two cups. It calmed him a little. Spirals of burnt umber and cinnamon followed the spoon when he stirred it in, taking care not to overdo it, until the water was completely brown and the sugar had dissolved. Next came the milk, which he added in careful drips and dashes. Despite the time it'd been, Roderich certainly hadn't forgotten how to conjure a satisfactory brew.

Vash watched, tilting his head so that he had view of Austria's working hands. It'd been an awfully prolonged time since they'd drank tea together. He wondered if it'd be awkward at all.

_I could always go into a separate room . . . yes, maybe I'll do that._

"I'll just leave that to brew for a minute," Roderich informed, stepping away from the gently steaming cups. "You can sit down, if you want."

"I don't intend on getting too comfy," said Vash haughtily. "I'm fine to stand, thankyou."

"Whatever," Roderich sighed for a third time that evening. "I'm going upstairs to get into something more comfortable. It's almost eight o' clock. You don't want to borrow any dry clothes, do you?"

"No." Vash dreaded the thought of putting on anything that belonged to the tasteless man.

"Alright," the Austrian turned to leave, but briefly stopped. "Do you ever miss it?"

"Miss what?"

"Us. What we had when we were younger," Roderich's voice was dreary. "When we were friends."

Vash drew back, "And why would I? I don't care about the past. Dwelling on such emotions is nonsensical!" He snapped.

_What an absurd thing to ask me._

"I was only curious," Roderich furrowed his brows as he stood at the doorway, one hand placed against its frame —all the while Vash kept a stoney face; the stern Swiss wasn't going to be dragged down by another man's desperate ponderings. He didn't care if the other got offended.

 _This man,_ thought Vash.

They remained for a moment, staring amidst silence. Though Roderich eventually dropped his gaze and treaded out into the hall, leaving Vash baffled and alone in the dusty kitchen.


	2. Cheap Tea with Cheaper Talk.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there's way too much tension in this one, honhon~

Switzerland took a seat at the table, his eyes wandering into the back of his skull. _Why did I ever agree to this?_ He mentally slammed his temples. The rain was throwing itself at the window beside him, drowning out everything else.

Well, almost everything else.

That question had begun to burn bullet holes in Vash's brain, wild and red and burning. "Do you ever miss it?"

Truthfully, he didn't know. He wasn't used to digging at those parts of his memories —the distant, troublesome corner of his head where he'd stored everything he deemed useless, never to be touched. But Austria just had to come along with a shovel and poke at it like a curious dog.

_Screw that man! Screw him and his stupid notions!_

It were as if talking had only made them separate further; they were too different, stuck at an impasse. Vash Zwingli was a hard-working, straightforward man who would pay other countries no mind at all, avoiding conflicts and concentrating on business. But Roderich Edelstein was an aristocratic yet lazy individual who cared too much about music and not enough about toil and hard labour, letting even his wife carry him through fire. The Austrian was always weak, always asking for Vash's help time after time. He'd relied on him too much and that's quite possibly what'd broken them.

_I even used to wipe his crummy mouth._

Vash felt a sudden heat rise in his cheeks and immediately slapped himself. This had a tendency to happen on the rarer occasions —an unpleasant flutter in his stomach and hot flush through his veins, which he dearly despised. Except he'd never known what brought it on.

He decided he'd do some taxes upon returning home. _Yes, that'll be good. Something productive to take my mind off the unfortunate mess of a day I've had._

A few minutes later Roderich came through the door again. Vash turned, studious of the man's new outfit; he wore a knitted grey pullover which Vash found rather unsightly, accompanied by a pair of lavender slippers. However not much else had changed —a pair of glasses still sat comfortably on Austria's nose, and his legs were covered in the same black trousers which hugged his flesh ever-so-slightly. Probably some attempt to be more up to date with fashion.

Vash made a face.

"What?" Roderich blurted.

"Nothing."

"These are very cozy, I'll have you know."

"Why didn't you just change into pyjamas or something?"

"Recently I haven't been sleeping in any. So it's not like I could arrive down here naked now, is it?"

A deeper grimace pressed itself into Vash's lips. "Fair enough."

The Austrian ambled over to where his kettle and teacups waited. With a small spoon he removed the dripping tea bags and set them onto a dish, humming contently to himself before tenderly carrying each cup to the table. He moved slowly as to not spill a drop. "I see you've chosen to sit down, after all," he said to his fickle guest.

"Whatever," was all Vash could think to say. He glanced down at the cup and saucer which had been placed in front of him —steam lapped at his nose. It smelled pleasant. The beverage was a perfect shade of dark caramel, not too much milk but not too rich either. He wound two fingers into the cup's handle and slowly brought the rim to his lips, taking a cautious sip. It was very hot, though tasted just right. Not harsh or mild. In-between.

_This is . . . good._

He felt Austria's eyes on him. "What do you think?" The brunet asked eagerly. 

"I think it tastes like tea."

"So . . . you like it?"

"I guess," Vash spoke into his cup.

Roderich was happy at such a remark. "Why, thankyou. That means a lot coming from you, you know."

 _What's that supposed to mean?_ Vash was tempted to say. Instead he remained quiet, anticipation tugging at his insides; now what?

Outside, the rain hammered on.

A hazy quietness filtered the space between them. Roderich had taken a seat two chairs down from Vash, which was arguably an attempt to make things less awkward. However it proved to have achieved the opposite.

_How pesky._

Vash's green eyes wandered, noticing things he hadn't before about the kitchen —like the pine bookshelf fixed over the counter, piled up with three-inch thick recipe books and bullet journals. And the three ladles which hung in size order upon the wall between Austria's fridge and the door —all brightly coloured and splashed with floral patterns. And lastly he noticed the one photograph with a white-bordered frame, which sat lonely beside the kettle on the counter; it was rather small, about the size of a standard diary cover —which was perhaps why he'd only now seen the object. The frame held an aged and wrinkled photo of two people holding hands; if there'd been colour to it, it had long since washed-out. The people were sat on a bench against a backdrop of white-dusted mountains and vast hypnotic fields, a clear sky smiling down upon them. One of them was undoubtedly Austria. The other was Elizabeth; her long hair glinted elegantly under the light of the sun beyond the photo and her eyes were two big, beaming buttons; she was pretty. Austria looked happy beside her.

This made Vash feel strange again. He was remembering something —something from years before. Something he too had known of hand-holding and white-dusted mountains and fields and Austria being there. That was the domineering factor it seemed: _Austria being there._

"You know," Switzerland found his lips moving on their own, spewing words he very much wished not to say. Though they kept coming, as if they were water trickling from a loose tap. "Whenever somebody takes my hand, it reminds me of you."

Austria looked at him, his jaw slack as it hovered above the cup he held. It was a good thing he hadn't just taken a sip as he would've splattered tea all over the clean table. "Is . . . that so?" He stammered.

Vash was red again. "It's funny, isn't it?"

_Is it?_

"Yes," the brunet adjusted his glasses. "And strange. I often feel the same way."

"Huh."

"Hmm."

Vash looked down into his teacup. It was already half-empty, perhaps more, though he didn't remember drinking so much. Maybe he'd done so sub-consciously as his mind had tumbled over other matters. Oh well. It was good tea, at least.

Roderich swallowed a warm mouthful and spoke again. "I should perhaps take those pictures down," he said, as if tired. "It's been too long."

Vash was taken-back; had the Austrian known he'd been staring at the photograph? Though he couldn't help but express his agreement. "What will you replace them with? Your house is going to look awfully bare," he said.

"Maybe I'll ask Italy to do some paintings for me —he was always good at that."

"Hmm."

"Or I could put some of my music sheets up on display," Roderich thought out loud. "You think that'd suffice?"

Vash rolled his eyes. "No. It sounds vaguely stupid. You can't put just anything on your walls —you want something that looks good and has meaning to it."

"Like the rifle you have over your fireplace?" Austria smirked.

"So you still remember that much of my house," Vash remarked. "How interesting."

Roderich placed his empty teacup atop its saucer. "Of course I do. I don't just forget things," he said. "I'm not like you —I don't push vital memories into the back of my head like compost in a heap."

"My home decor is a vital memory?" 

"No. I was just saying," Roderich clicked his tongue. His pale cheeks had been kissed with pink —he was blushing.

Vash looked away. "You're so childish."

"Am I? I always thought you were the childish one."

 _"Excuse me?"_ Vash's eyes suddenly flew back again, buzzing with an almost hostile gaze. "I am not childish."

"You are," Roderich was calm. "You don't like talking about things which must be talked about —you ignore them, like a child. You push everything away. Not to mention you refused to sit down earlier and said my cheese was atrocious, when I'm the one who's giving you shelter."

 _So he really did take note of that,_ Vash figured.

"Well I shouldn't have gone down on your offer," the blond retaliated. He struck his cup down on the table, not caring if a little tea flew out. "I should be going, anyway. I've had enough."

Roderich's face warped into the very picture of disappointment. "It's still raining hard out there. That'd be a childish move."

"I don't care," Vash said. He threw back his chair, making it screech across the floor as he stood up abruptly. "And I won't stay to finish your shitty tea. Goodbye." And at that Switzerland moved hastily to the counter, taking up all five shopping bags into his arms before heading to the hallway. A granola bar dropped from his clutch, though he didn't turn back for it.

"Wait—" Roderich rose from his seat, though the Swiss was already halfway to the door.

"Don't follow me," Vash warned with a finality in his tone —he was leaving and that was that. Upon reaching the door he slung his trench coat over a shoulder, simultaneously pushing one foot into a boot which lay on the dirt-littered carpet.

"I'm sorry," he heard Austria say from somewhere in the hallway.

"Fuck off."

"This is my house."

"I don't care, just leave me alone," Vash's accent grew thicker as his frustration heightened. Pulling on any pair of shoes was difficult without the use of hands, and worse still with an irksome Austrian nipping at your tail.

"Bitte, Vash."

More items toppled from Switzerland's grocery bags as he bent down, hitting the carpet with numerous faint thuds. A vile of cinnamon, a can of cream, some chocolate, another granola bar. It was all a-clutter. His body grew hot and feverish, hands shaking as they reached for the dropped goods. More only fell out.

Eventually, giving up was the best option. Vash stifled a yell and slammed the bags down in a huff, before sinking himself into the carpet to join his purchases. His head hung low. _Fuck it. Fuck it all. Fuck Austria and his lame house. Fuck this entire day._

An uninvited arm drifted down next to him, taking a bar of chocolate into its soft hold. "You look as though you could use some help," came the Austrian's voice again. It was gentle this time.

Vash didn't reply. He simply pursed his lips and refrained from speaking. 

"I'll take that as a yes," Roderich said with a sigh. He erected one of the paper bags from the floor and began placing items back into it —carefully selecting those which would fit the best, thus making efficient use of the tight space. Slow and steadily, the floor began to clear again. Austria could be the helpful one when he needed to be. All it took was approval.

Vash didn't stop him, not even when he began lifting the bags to set them elsewhere —or even when the man took ahold of the prized smoked cheese he'd promised to bring home to Liechtenstein that day. Vash merely sat in a mellow grump, quiet and self-quarrelling.

_I suppose he sees me as the useless one now? Tsk. This truly is the worst._

Soon there was but a single can left —it contained powdered drinking chocolate, a cheap kind the Swiss tended to buy. Roderich leaned down for it, though his hand was stopped as Vash quickly snatched the item. "I'll take this myself," he then said coldly. He was inherently stubborn.

Roderich silently nodded.

"Where did you put it all?" Asked Vash, exasperated as he asserted himself from the floor.

"Back in the kitchen," said Roderich. Vash scowled at him, to which he replied: "There aren't many other adequate places. And some of it needs to be kept in the fridge or it'll spoil. You don't want that, I take it."

"No," the blond admitted. He kicked away the one boot he'd managed to slip on beforehand, a placid look on his face.

Roderich exhaled roughly. "So, you're staying?"

Vash didn't answer.

"Alright. I won't keep asking," Roderich said, his tone slight as if treading over thin ice. "Do as you please. I think I'll go to bed."

It'd become obvious both were tired.

Vash halted him, just as the brunet had turned his back. "I'll stay," he said. It was only a murmur —but to Roderich the words were loud as a crackling fire.

"Oh? Okay then, if you're certain."

"I'm certain."

Austria raised an elicited brow. "You don't seem alright."

"What's it to you?" The Swiss shot back.

"Well if you're to stay at my house—" but Roderich paused, drawn by the look in Vash's eyes. They were sheen and wet, and surrounded by swollen lids. "Are you—"

"Fuck off to bed already," interrupted Vash. He folded his arms, voice dripping with venom. "Aren't I too childish to talk with?"

Roderich narrowed his eyes. "I don't understand. You're usually so straightforward, but now . . ." he trailed off.

"You shouldn't offer me shelter next time, then. I never wanted to be here in the first place," Vash said spitefully, raising a shoulder to push past the taller nation —except he was seized by a firm hand.

_. . . he just grabbed me?_

"Tell me what's wrong with you," Roderich pleaded whilst his grip sank deep into flesh, prying a disgruntled cry from the Swiss's clenched teeth. "Just this once."

"Get your hands off me!" Sizzled Vash. "I have no wish to discuss personal matters with the likes of you!"

"Why not? We're friends, aren't we?"

"No, we're not. How many times must I say it," Vash floundered against Austria's hold. "Piss off or I'm leaving."

"Fine," Roderich glanced to the side, realising the audacity of his actions. He loosened his grip and both hands made their way sheepishly into his pockets. "Lets agree: you just do what you want and I'll do what I want. We can talk more in the morning."

"Whatever," Vash said. He was so close that Roderich could feel the hot breath spilling from his mouth after every word.

_His . . .breath._

"I'm sorry I touched you," said the Austrian. "It was a careless move. I just got a little aggravated, that's a—"

Roderich's words were muffled by the rough press of Vash's lips to his own. It was sudden and clumsy, a flaming spur of the moment —yet nevertheless, a kiss. Both kept their eyes open, though didn't look at each other; like it was the type of kiss you'd give to an enemy if that were ever applicable.

After a few seconds the Swiss pulled away, releasing his impulsive grasp at Roderich's chin —he'd done so as to make sure the other man took it. And he didn't know why. He hadn't the faintest clue on what grounds he'd performed such a rash, abstract gesture.

He just kissed another man, and that other man was _Austria._

_No. I couldn't have—_

Roderich was blank. "Vash . . ." to the other's surprise, his tone remained relatively serene. "Is —is this why?"

Vash's gaunt mouth was choked-up on his own throat. "I —I don't know. Ahem. I think I just miss—" he stuttered. "I missed you and I—"

Roderich stopped him with a laugh. "To be honest, I'm glad you feel this way," he said. 

He was _glad?_

Vash didn't know where to glance; he felt so ridiculed with himself having done what he did —the powdered chocolate had fallen from his grip some time ago. His accent was growing almost incomprehensible. "I didn't mean that. No. This was a mistake. Maybe I should go."

The Swiss turned to leave, but—

"You can't leave. Not now," Roderich protested. He brought up a hand to cradle Vash's face, urging it towards him as he spoke. "Besides, what you did was rather adult you know. Maybe your aren't as childish as I thought."

Vash looked up at him through dark lashes. For the first time in a long, long while he wanted to hold Austria's hand like they used to —when he would carry him on his back and tend to his wounds and they would sit down at that old bench behind the mountains, a soft breeze pecking their young faces. He wanted to hold his hand and kiss him again.

And again.

And again.

_What is this?  
  I can't honestly desire such things with this man! No, this is idiotic. Disgusting. Inexcusable!_

But, more than anything, it made sense.

"You're quiet," said Roderich. Truthfully, he wanted it just as much as Vash did. 

Vash inhaled deeply. "I was just thinking about silly things," he said with a shrug. He tried to pull away, though found that he couldn't. Something had tethered him there to that spot.

Roderich gave a sympathetic look. "Does this mean you wish to be friends again?"

Vash groaned. Was the Austrian mocking him on purpose? "Shut up with that," he snapped. "I can't stand anymore of this cheap talk."

Then with a soft grunt and wrinkled nose, Vash leaned in —as did Roderich, and the two kissed once more. It felt good. It felt good in the most obscure of ways.

And it didn't stop there.


	3. Clockwork and Symphonies.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it gets smutty ❤︎

About the third or fourth time the kisses began to progress deeper, longer, harder. They took brief pauses for air, one of which Roderich used to speak. "Are you alright with this?" He'd asked, just to make sure. The last thing he wanted was the short blond's apprehension.

Switzerland mumbled a hasty: "Yes. Keep going." For some reason he felt so sure of it, surer than he'd ever felt about anything. Surer than his love for good cheese, almost.

Roderich nodded. They didn't talk much more after that. The scant space between them was filled with nothing but pleasurable smacking and hot exhales, drowning out the roar of heavy rain outside. They kissed many times.

As soon the other had eased up just enough, Austria decided to venture further. He licked at Switzerland's lips, earning himself a short grunt as he coaxed the fleshy guards open. Success. He slipped his tongue in gently, not too far but not too shallow, and caressed the blond's soft walls as they begun to wrestle with their mouths. It surprised him at how acceptant Switzerland was being. Was this perhaps the result of painful and lingered emotions finally set free, after all those years?

_How long has he felt this way?_

"Mmn . . . _nyugh,"_ Vash kept letting noises loose, especially whenever the Austrian did something a little different —like the occasional nip at his lip, or a deeper push of his tongue. Vash found him to be sweet like tea, though his breaths tasted ripe and smokey, leaving a buzzing sensation throughout his own mouth after each time their lips peeled apart.

"Mn, kiss me again—"

It was unlike anything the Swiss had ever experienced. It was hot. And he found that he loved it; oh did he love it. A wildfire bloomed in his head, chest swelling with a sickly emotion he'd never properly had the opportunity to explore. 

The tall brunet grabbed Vash's waist, pulling him closer and gently kneading the skin through his shirt; he liked that. Their breathing grew more laboured, pauses more reluctant. But they were also growing clumsier, and Roderich ended up pressing his partner to the wall. It was a tad rough, though neither minded. "Mmm, Vash," he whispered, his voice chocked-full of masculine ardour.

"I said . . . just—" Vash was ceased by a sloppy tongue shoved into his cavern yet again. He sucked on it and savoured the taste, pushing back and uttering quiet moans before he could finally finish his sentence. "Just . . . keep going."

"Certainly," Austria breathed into him. It tingled like popping candy.

They made out for several minutes, messy and somewhat amateur on Vash's part —though it was pure and fiery, and everything they'd never knew they wanted. But of course it was a matter of little time before the two ended up craving more; more than just the kissing and tonguing. _More._

There came a point where both stopped for a bit, panting and drenched in sweat. They must've looked a mess. "Vash," Roderich started, his voice bombarded with heavy rasps. "I think we should take this somewhere else."

Vash felt a hot sensation about his nether regions, stiff and tingly to the point it almost hurt. In reality it'd been there from early on, though he'd never realised amidst their passionate outburst; he'd been too caught up, too enthralled by the authenticity of it all. "I agree," he said once having caught his breath, before momentarily glimpsing the Austrian's own erection behind a sheath of taught material. Seeing it only made Vash's need worsen; he immediately looked upwards, embarrassed at the idea he'd grown hard thinking about . . . well, Roderich of all people.

Thankfully, Austria didn't appear to have realised. Or if he did, he showed no inkling of the fact and instead took ahold of Switzerland's wrist. "This way," was all he said before pulling the other man towards a grand and fanciful staircase which lay at the very end of the hallway.

_I can't make it all the way up there,_ Vash kept thinking. _I can't wait. God knows for what reason, but I need him now._

Unfortunately, waiting was the solitary option.

Vash tailed along boorishly as Austria tugged at his arm, compelling him up every step as if it were a mountain. There came multiple whines from the Swiss's throat, impatient and flustered.

"You know, you're quiet passionate for somebody who claims to hate me," Austria remarked as they clambered to the landing.

Vash tsk'ed. "Whatever."

_Whatever._ He'd said the word many times that evening. So much so that Roderich was beginning to find it almost adorable, because Vash only said it when he was shielding nervous feelings —and through the course of his stay, such feelings had turned out to be a good thing.

  A very good thing.

After some cross-legged hobbling and a great deal of Swiss complaints, the two had made it to Austria's bedroom. It was big and sported much old-fashioned interior, such as a canopied bed with a plethora of cushions, a dollish bedside table and an excessively ornate rug. Purple of course, was the most prominent colour. It smelled of flowers and spicy, saccharine plums.

"Right," the Austrian huffed, practically shoving Switzerland onto his bedsheets; he wasn't interested in wasting time. "I apologise for the lack of etiquette I may display from this point on."

Vash felt excitement bubble in his groin. "Very well," he didn't smile, but his voice purred. "Do what you must."

Did he really just say that?

Roderich stripped in front of him, beginning with his glasses and lobbing them atop the bedside table in a careless manner. He then stretched the knitted jumper up over his head, tearing it away with an almost vicious intent. It was strewn to the floor in a matter of seconds. Vash felt compelled to do the same, and started to tug at them hem of his own shirt. "Eager, aren't we?" He remarked, prompting a grin from the Austrian.

"So are you, by the looks of things."

Vash realised he was laying spread-legged in front of the taller man with all that he had to offer on display, surrounded by the cozy embrace of cushions. He may have been wearing trousers, though that didn't quite hide his very obvious excitement —at this, the blond's face lit with a feverish blush. "Shut up," he said bashfully, discarding the shirt which hung limply from one hand. "It's your fault."

Roderich laughed and slid his half-naked body over Vash's, staring down at those liquid, emerald orbs. "I know."

The two kissed deeply, wet tongues and all. A river of content washed through Vash, him being pleased at the fact he was finally getting the thing he desired most —after what'd perhaps been a whole three minutes of waiting.

Three minutes had simply been too long.

"Mmf, mmn," Roderich made more noise this time as he worked his tongue. Strands of saliva webbed between their parted mouths, then dissolved once more as the two closed in on each other over and over. The room was filled with wet sucking and clicks and moans.

_"Ugh,"_

_"Mmn."_

Vash let out a sudden squeak as he felt the Austrian graze his nipple with a soft thumb. It was tender there —something he'd never realised until now. "Nyugh— what're you —" he gasped as it happened again, all the while Roderich had their mouths interlocked. With every suck and kiss there was now the raw, delightful burn as his pinkish nubs were stimulated. It'd only added to the things Vash had spinning through his head.

He almost couldn't keep up.

"What, you like that?" Questioned Roderich, his voice like melted butter.

Vash churned beneath him, yearning for their bodies to be closer. "So what if I do?" He said.

"Leib . . ."

"Dummkopf."

Roderich pressed hard into Vash, dividing the space between them until it was almost nothing at all. Their torsos were warm and supple against each other's, Vash' smelling of smokey rain and flecks of gunpowder. Roderich gazed amiably at the Swiss male's smooth, milky skin —tracing feathery circles into it with a finger. "Delightful," he said lovingly.

Vash croodled with every new touch, every wandering sensation the other dared make upon him. His body was a landscape begging to be explored.

"Have you done such things before?" Roderich couldn't help but ask.

Vash hummed ambiguously. "You'll have to figure it out. Now quit your speaking and carry on, lousy Austrian."

"You really are a typical, cold-hearted Swiss aren't you?"

Vash responded by pecking the man's plush lips several times, effectively silencing him. No words were said. Only devilish looks and savoury, passionate touches were shared between them.

  As Roderich gave attention to his chest, Vash ghosted two hands over the small of the slender back which had flattened on top of him, releasing a rattle and various shivers which he felt through his fingertips.

"Your hands feel good," Roderich said. The Austrian teased the small buttons some more, gliding himself further down so he could simultaneously nip and kiss at the skin on Vash's neck. He pulled on it, using lips as suction cups whilst bringing flesh up into his mouth —he wanted to leave his mark, claiming Switzerland's body as his own.

Vash didn't mind, not at all. He relished in the attention, craving more and more with each passing second. He felt himself becoming hard all over again —the fervent rush of blood through his nether regions amplified with every movement the brunette ran on him. "Rod . . . erich—" he puffed, grinding his hips upwards into the other man's stomach. It felt good on the stiffened length beneath Vash's trousers, which throbbed with a needy pain more intense than before. "I . . . need more. I need you to . . . to do it to me," his voice was a desperate, almost girlish whimper.

_What have I become?  
What the fuck has Austria done to me?_

Roderich still sucked on Vash's neck, humming gently into it as if to assure him he'd soon be finished. His hands roamed away from Vash's fluctuating chest, brushing against his stomach and down to his hips. Everything about him felt so soft, so velvet. So perfect.

"Ugh . . . _Roderich,"_ Vash moaned louder, more impatiently —then once more as the brunet released his mouth, exposing a translucent string which clung onto the Swiss man's skin. 

"My, my. You've certainly changed your tune since you stepped in," Austria cooed, licking his lips clean and admiring the fresh hickey he'd made. "Lets see just how _—oh Gott!"_ He exclaimed at the feel of Vash's shaft under his hand. It was far harder than he'd admittedly expected —just how much did Switzerland like him?

"I told you," Vash grated. "Now do something about it."

Roderich smiled and arched his back to graze a hot tongue over Vash's skin —this time in the space between his ribs, trailing slowly downwards and affectively coaxing the blond into submission. Vash's body twitched and tensed as he felt the man's wet slide lower. All the while two large hands kneaded his hips as if they were dough, thumbs doing tender circles against his porcelain flesh. Vash couldn't help but let out another moan; those steamy breaths and rubs felt incredible against his body, pawing at every nerve ending.

Austria was soon at the belt, which he frowned upon seeing. "Tedious that you couldn't have already taken this off," he complained, rising slightly and releasing his fingers from Vash so he could work at the buckle. It came loose without too much effort, and was satisfying to pull away —sliding through the loops in Vash's trousers with one swift tug.

"Impressive," Vash commented, his voice tart and teasing. "You can actually take off a belt I see."

Roderich threw the asset away behind him, glaring down at the Swiss man's blushing face. "Don't be so cheeky," he said.

Vash pouted as the Austrian drew close once more. He felt the trousers being slipped loose from his legs, though didn't have time to acknowledge it as his mouth was stopped by another hard kiss. Neither of them seemed to be able to get enough. "Mng . . . Rod," he struggled to force words into the ever-moving space, "Roderich, I—"

Roderich sealed Vash's lips with a firm peck, then pulled away. His right hand had scuttled down to the Swiss's sore length, brushing gingerly against it with fingertips like tiny embers. "Settle down," he hushed, voice rich with an Austrian tongue. "Just let me feel you."

Vash nodded and readied himself as the hand ventured into his boxers, fingers closing in round his prize underneath; gently, sweetly. He wrapped his arms tight over Roderich's neck and breathed deep when the man proceeded to fondle his needy cock —shifting the grip up and down. "Ahh—" sounds were made as it grew faster. "Ahh, mmn—"

They kissed again, Roderich asking for entrance —and Vash promptly allowing him in, before releasing sloppy moans and warbles.

Slip, suck, gasp. That's how it normally went.

"Ugh, Austria—" the name tumbled from Vash's lips like an avalanche. "More. That's feels _—ahh —!_ That's feels good—"

Roderich tightened his hold, tugging harder and harder. He twisted his hand round Vash's flesh, wringing the skin and squeezing ever-so delicately while he pumped. As he did so he gazed down at the Swiss —a hot and melting mess, writhing beneath him; it was almost surreal, but painfully cute. He felt nails dig into his back.

"Ugh," Vash groaned, his legs flying up to grapple Roderich's hips. "F —faster." 

The Austrian obliged, pulling on the length as if it were a chew-toy. Beating it like cake mix. Vash responded with gaping-mouthed, half-finished rasps and soft chokes. Sweat trickled from both their foreheads; they were in complete and utter, blissful heat.

Well, almost. 

Austria's own need had been left unattended, and through the course of pleasing Vash so effectively it'd grown to a throbbing ache. He needed more; he needed that unrefined excuse for a Swiss man just as he needed air. It hadn't taken long before Roderich had removed Vash's boxers entirely; and it required an unfathomable amount of willpower to not be tempted by the soft, pristine body before him.

_Mein Gott._

"Vash," started Roderich. His voice had grown laboured, pleading. "I want to try something . . . if that's okay with you."

Vash grumbled. "And —ugh, what would that be?"

"I think we . . . should change position."

"Huh?"

"Turn over," Roderich said softly, loosening his hold from Vash. "It'll be okay."

The blond looked displeased at Roderich having stopped, though reluctantly obliged. "How annoying," he said as he rolled over, pressing his palms and stomach into the cashmere quilt. Roderich let out a soft laugh behind him.

Something unzipped.

"You're aware of what I'm talking about, aren't you?" The Austrian asked tentatively.

Vash hummed into the pillow which swamped his face. "Yes. I'm fine with it," he said, failing to mask his impatience. "Just hurry up."

"If you're definitely okay with it, then," the brunet stopped to position himself over Vash's body, meshing with the contour of the milky-white torso in front of him. He could feel the heat emanate from Vash's skin —buzzing with an ecstatic air. They fit so perfectly, as if they were the very embodiment of their borders on the map, ragged and interlocking. It was such a thin, insignificant line which separated them —they may as well have been one.

Roderich would make it happen.

Vash was about to complain again, but was halted as he glimpsed Austria reach for some object on the bedside table. It was a small, palm-sized bottle with minuscule text  imprinted on a label stuck to its surface. "Fucking hell, Roderich," he said, teeth gnawing at the pillow. "I'm aching here."

Austria hushed the man with a gentle kiss between the shoulder blades. It tickled. "You'll see what that's for," he assured.

An arm hooked round Vash's middle, one thumb making it's way over the tip of his heated sex as Roderich resumed twisting and pulling. The blond mumbled in satisfaction. "Yes, do —nng, do that."

Roderich thumbed across the head gently, extracting pleasured ticks from Vash. He pressed the man's rear close to his own crotch, beginning to softly grind. "You're so pretty, Vash," he said without much thinking —eyes drinking up the sight of Vash's smaller frame.

"Mmn. I get the feeling you're not talking about my scenery."

Roderich placed his free hand on Vash's ass, feeling up and down whilst he tugged on the cock below. "Oh, but I am," he grunted in amusement. "This is definitely scenery to behold."

At that Vash felt a fierce blush, biting his lip against the pillow which was already soaked in saliva. "How many times must I tell you to —ugh! —to shut up?"

Roderich's hand drifted closer to Vash's tight opening, which already glistened with slick wet. My, he's aroused. However it wasn't quite enough.

Vash felt something smooth and cold smother his rosebud. "Roderich, is that— ah—"

"It's the stuff from the bottle, yes," Roderich warbled, probing a lube-covered finger gently inside. _So tight._ "You don't want to know the consequences of skipping this part."

Vash compressed a cry as the other man slipped a little further in. It was merely a single digit, but it already felt like so much. "Ugh—! I'm more curious as why you already —mmf!— had this in your room," he struggled between grunts.

Austria huffed. "Well it's not like Elizabeth and I spent all our nights chit-chatting. And I like to keep some for myself too, you know. I'm an adult man."

Vash felt his stomach drop a little at the mention of the Hungarian girl's name. "I see," he said blandly.

Roderich sensed Vash's discomfort. "Don't worry. It's not her I'll be thinking about anymore," he half-whispered it, as if to soothe and kindle at the same time. When Vash didn't answer he inserted another finger —thwoking in and out, making sure everything was nicely stretched and wet. Flesh clamped over his digits.

Vash moaned in pleasure at the feeling of being penetrated, almost instantly forgetting Roderich's previous mentions. _"Ahh, fuck—"_ he dipped his spine, clutching at crinkled bedsheets as the Austrian fingered him. "Roderich!"

_Why does this feel so good?  
  What's Austria doing to me? I don't understand._

_I don't under —ahh!_

Roderich added one last finger, curling each one as it went in —massaging against Switzerland's sultry walls. The blond was getting looser, slicker. His body heaved and rattled.

Vash felt as if he could hardly take any more —three fingers felt huge inside him. "Tch —ahh!" He mewled into the cushion, ashamed of every little noise which escaped his throat. Yet he loved it all. The only thing Vash regretted was not being able to kiss Roderich in their current position; those lips were like a drug he now craved.

"I think . . . you're ready," Roderich said after a few minutes, slipping his fingers away from Vash's opening. The blond responded by raising his pearly ass, practically inviting the Austrian into his body. He was overcome by heat.

_"Fuck me."_ Vash exhaled.

Austria took his own erection in hand, pulling it from the confines of his boxers —which he then shuffled off completely. He guided his hardened shaft to Vash's dripping hole and kissed it with the very tip. "Mein Gott, Vash," he breathed, a voracious shudder barrelling down his spine.

Vash coiled at the feel of Austria's glans against his moist, twitching bud. He felt the rounded head slide in further, slick and easy. Then came the shaft which pressed up impossibly snug against all sides of his tight pocket. _"Ahh—!"_ An intoxicating cry flew from his mouth; Roderich felt so large, almost more than he could bare.

_Fuck. I might do something I regret if this keeps up. Vash mentally chided._

The Austrian stuffed himself further in, Switzerland's rings sucking and tightening around his cock as he went. _"Oh, fuck!"_ he exclaimed. The feel of Vash's ass was head-spinning. It was warm —warm and wet and downright delicious.

Vash huffed when Roderich began to slowly pump into him, still using one hand to synchronously tease his sex. He loved the sensation of being stroked and thrusted at the same time —it was sending him over the edge. The Swiss clawed at the bedsheets like a hungry animal, completely absorbed by sheer, genuine euphoria. "Ugh, yes —harder!" He begged. "Fuck me, Austria!"

Roderich thrusted deeper this time —as deep as he could, harvesting a shrill moan from the smaller man. He bucked his hips, grasping onto one of Vash's love-handles for support. "Personally, I prefer it when you take sides like this," Roderich said into Vash's ear, his chest almost touching the other's spine. "I wonder what's gotten into you, Switzerland."

"You have," the blond nation's words were sandwiched by beaten breaths. He throttled out more groans and yips of pleasure. _"God that's good —ahh—! Unngg—"_

_"Mmf, Vash—!"_ Roderich slopped in and out, his thighs smacking loudly against the other man's ass. It felt as if his shaft were being swallowed.

The bedroom silence had become a symphony of moans and ragged breaths, steady and rhythmic like clockwork. Austria was the conductor, painting sweet music into the sheets with Switzerland's mouth and body. With every tick there was another cry, and with every cry there was another craving wail more desperate than the last.

"Oh fuck, Roderich—! Ahh—!"

Roderich fucked hard, having to hold on tight whist he piled in and out of Vash's pink hole. The edges latched like a deadly, pleasuring trap.

Vash tensed and released against the thick cock driving into him, just as his own was beginning to throb uncontrollably within Roderich's grasp. _I'm going to cum,_ Vash thought. He could feel something warm and tense pooling in his stomach, like a sea of boiling broth.

Austria's hand was an articulate, orchestrated device. His fingers worked like individual bands —squeezing against Vash's pole as his wrist hinged and twisted the entire thing in a hot, potent grip. The warm feeling in Vash's stomach worsened —churning water building up behind a dam.

_Shit, I'm going —I'm going—_

_"Gopfertammi—!"_ The Swiss yelled, throwing back his head as he burst with velvety secretion. His semen spilled over Roderich's hand and through the gaps between his fingers, dripping like lava upon the quilt.

Roderich rubbed Vash's cock one last time before pulling away. As he stopped he marvelled at the warm substance which coated his digits —fresh cum. _Honestly, Vash._ Without thinking he inserted them through his lips and sucked, tasting the Swiss man's salty juices. It was bizarrely good.

"Roderich," Vash said breathlessly, his length flaccid and body fallen limp on the bed. "You've . . . slowed down."

The Austrian rolled his tongue through his fingers, making sure to savour every last drop before he took them out. "You want me to continue?" He asked, licking his lips. "You look worn."

Vash turned his head, gazing up through a curtain of matted, blond hair and lustful eyes. A few tears had drizzled down his cheeks. "You haven't finished yet," he said coarsely. His chest jerked up and down, though he seemed sure of himself; he wanted Austria to cum too.

It was only fair, after all.

Roderich nodded. He was still snugly inside Vash, though now had two hands free to grope the man's hips. "Well brace yourself, ja?" His voice was indulgent and doting; a soft reminder he really cared about Switzerland's wellbeing, no matter how raucous their actions.

Vash turned his head back towards the pillow, his teeth clenched and body trembling in anticipation. "Yes."

Roderich took haste. He began slowly, though soon picked up speed. Each stroke was a marathon. He proceeded to sweep his cock in and out, prying squirts of moisture from Vash's knot —a mixture of lube and wet arousal. Roderich felt the touch of the Swiss's prostate knock against him each time as he penetrated Vash right to the very base of his shaft. It was hard, wanting.

They made love deeply amidst the sunken bedsheets.

"Mmng . . . nyugh . . ." Vash's muffled moans were like kisses to Roderich's ear.

_So cute._

Roderich's belly tensed as Vash tightened like a vice —it was like he did so on purpose, knowing how much it pleased the Austrian. _"You're so tight, mmn—"_ Roderich breathed words into his partner's neck, rich with ardour. Vash almost felt as if he could get hard again.

The men fucked ravenously, greedy for each other. Switzerland took it all, every last throb and pillaging sweep. It ached . . . but it ached good.

_So good._

Roderich fingered the squishy flesh on Vash's hips and thighs whilst he worked into him, teasing as much area as he could; for a man with such a hard exterior, Switzerland was affably soft to the touch. They both sang melodies of thick, tantalised vocals —some muffled, others louder than a storm. 

Vash was tired, though that didn't stop the pleasure coursing through his veins. Each time Austria thrusted it felt like a thousand of his fingers, rubbing on every rib and crevice of his sensitive walls, teasing his need. _"Roderich —ugh, Roderich—"_ he liked saying the man's name; it was sweet and chocolatey when rolled off the tongue. It'd been too long since he'd said it.

"V —Vash, you feel so good, you know."

"As do —mmf!— as do you."

A turbulent pulse spiralled through Roderich, collecting inside his swollen length. Switzerland felt incredible around him. It was rupturing his very being, seeping into his insides like fire. "Oh, Vash I think _—I'm think I'm going to—"_ his words were jammed, making way for what came next.

Vash convulsed. "Roderich —tsk!" He was taken back by the sensation of something lush and creamy flooding his insides. It came fast and hot, a raging waterfall of euphoric juice. His stomach felt like a furnace. It burned heavenly.

Roderich moaned loud as he released, filling the Swiss to the brim. Dribbles of excess cum leaked from Vash's knot and spilt; overflowing.

The Austrian pulled out, his length slipping and falling flaccid as it gave way for a further cascade of the white batter. A salty scent tainted the air around them.

_Drip . . . drip . . ._

There then came several moments of nothing but heavy panting.

_"Ahh,"_ a throaty sigh drifted from Roderich's mouth. He collapsed onto the bed beside Vash, having finished and riddling himself no less than exhausted. They and the sheets were caked with semen, though it didn't matter.

All that mattered was that they were together. Again, at last.

_At last._

The same thoughts floated over Vash's head, though he couldn't seem to find a landing spot for them. He was too breathless, too bewildered over the things he'd done. His nether tickled with the wet of remaining cum —which he decided to leave. Each part of him felt satisfied, tended to just enough. And he was on the verge of passing out.

His mind quieted.

"Are you glad you stayed?" Roderich said when minutes of spent silence had passed.

Vash tutted. "Why do you ask so many questions?" His green irises dribbled over to look at the Austrian man, who lay sleepy-eyed at his side. Undoubtedly Roderich still aggravated him, but if he really thought about it —there was some aspect which lingered on his person, one Vash had always held strange feelings for.

_I guess I really did miss him._

"Well you don't ever tell me anything," the Austrian complained with a pout.

Vash leaned in to lay a kiss on the bridge of Roderich's nose. "Shush. I think I've certainly said enough for today."

The brunet hummed. He was pacified, for now.

***


	4. Morning Showers Tend to Be Better.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> even more smutty.  
> this time, wetter ~

It was morning.

Vash awoke with a carousel of hazy, dreamlike images still floating through his head. He felt the warm press of bedsheets beneath his bare body, the weight of a cashmere quilt above. It was pleasant, cozy. At least better than the sleeping experiences he'd had back at home, through all the late nights of tax-related toil and cheap heating appliances during a reckless Winter.

_Wait, I'm not at home.  
  I'm . . . _

The next thing he noticed was the shallow dip in the mattress beside him; a weight accompanied by the gentle lick of another's body heat —Roderich.

_Ah._

Of course, Vash couldn't forget. Not this time. Last night had been a memory he simply couldn't just cast away into the compost heap at the back of his mind. Even if he wanted to.

Vash glanced down at the mop of brown-hair beside him. Roderich breathed softly, still consumed by the embrace of sleep. His eyelids fluttered every so often —the only external hint of whatever dream he was living through his quiet slumber. Vash found himself thinking how tranquil he looked. How content.

_How cute._

He leaned in close, feeling the Austrian's delicate breath graze his cheek. But he stopped himself.

_No.  
  What am I doing?_

Almost in disgust he flinched away, flustered at his own actions. How could he even so much as think of being close to that man after what they'd done? The Swiss inhaled deeply. He found that the room smelled of bodies, boyish and musky with sweat drenched into the sheets.

Except there was more than just sweat.

_That was unacceptable.  
  I need a shower._

Vash breathed out, expelling a cloud of pent-up tension. Two feet were placed upon the carpet as he sorely settled himself to a sit upon the bed; regrettably, he found he was raw and aching in places he dare not mention.

_Fuck._

The mattress creaked gently as he rose, slow as to not disturb the resting Austrian. An arrow of sharp pain suddenly shot through his body; "Uhff," Vash stifled a groan, urging himself into a tired walk. He'd wrapped a crinkled shirt round his waist —as the bending involved to pull on a set of trousers would be rather difficult, he figured.

This wasn't going to be a pleasant day.

_How bothersome._

The way to the shower was one filled with tender knots and frustrated grumbles. His thighs burned, his back ached and crackled; a grim reminder of the two nations' late evening escapades. Vash tried to occupy himself with the interior, anything to take his mind off things.

Austria's hallway was immensely decorated with a plum, gold-tasseled carpet stretching down its length, and walls that were probably more painting than . . . well, actual wall. Wooden tables stood at regular intervals and on them it seemed Austria had placed vases filled with mainly edelweiss and an array of brightly-coloured tulips. A rather womanly-touch Vash thought, though it gave the house a subtle and floral scent. Quite earthy. Not terrible.

Tulips were the flower of Hungary.

Vash found the bathroom soon enough for someone who couldn't move with much more than a grandad-esque hobble. An outstretched leg shut the door behind him as he rushed straight for the shower —twisting the small, silver dial to it's warmest setting upon reach. Water rattled through the copper pipes and came spewing out, taking a few seconds to work itself into a steady stream.

As soon as the glass began to fog Vash stepped eagerly inside. He dropped his crinkled shirt upon the shower-mat, not caring if it were dampened by stray droplets. The heat immediately felt soothing against his stiff joints, easing his muscles into a more natural state as he stood head-back beneath the water.

He shut his eyes. Only a sharp splatter could be heard, drowning out Vash's thoughts. Dirt washed from his body and through the drain, trickling, taking the morning's stress along with it.

_Drip . . . drip . . ._

Vash brought two hands up and ran them through his blond hair. It felt good to be clean —to rid himself of grime and the lingering buzz of Austria's touch.

The way he'd touched him was—

_Nng. Austria . . ._

  There were momentary glimpses —ones of lust and downy quilts and clothes strewn to a carpet floor. Glimpses of a man who smelled of rain and gunpowder, melting into scents of freshly baked bread and flowers and Austrian breath. Two entirely different genres had blended amongst the sheets.

_Wait. No —not again._

Vash opened his eyes, though immediately regretted doing so as his sockets were bombarded with a near-scolding stream. "Fuck!" The Swiss swore out loud, smacking himself into the back wall. It stung his tender shoulders.

He blamed Roderich.

_It's all that damn Austrian's fault.  
  The imbecile._

He cursed again, and again. The very thought of said spectacle-clad brunette was simply enraging, making him feel that way . . . making him do those things. The things he'd said. The things he'd asked for. It hadn't been right.

  Yet, it had.

Vash sighed, letting the water pound upon his head as he looked glumly to the shower floor; defeated. And then he realised—

_Huere —!_

He was semi-hard.

  Whether the cause be the touch of hot water against cool skin, or the uninvited thoughts of a certain man that kept sifting through his head, he didn't know. Though what he did know was that it wouldn't deflate unless he acted upon it —and there was no way he was about to walk back into that god-forsaken bedroom sporting such a display.

  "Oh, hell," Vash seethed between clenched teeth, taking his length into a hesitant grab. He'd done it before —jerking in the shower, though this time he would find it difficult to not let his mind slip towards things which sparked further arousal. Austrian-related things at that.

_This really isn't ideal, is it?_ He thought to himself as he fumbled with the erection in his hand. Slowly, lousy. But he'd make it work.

_Drip . . . drip . . ._

It was a bland process, as Vash did all he could to refrain from intrusive thoughts. He simply concentrated on motion —a gentle tugging accompanied by the warm feel of shower air. Steam licked all around him. He felt himself grow hotter.

_Ugh. This is tedious._

He puffed a little, though not deeply. It'd be over soon.

Suddenly there was a click at the door. Vash paused, the noise resonating through his head and freezing his every nerve. _No._

Another click. An internal cluttering —the sound of a handle's contraptions twisting free.

_He can't be awake already. Now of all times._

On cue, a dreary-faced Roderich appeared behind the frame. "Oh. Morning," he mumbled as he entered the room, not bothering to cover his eyes when a naked Switzerland floundered behind the glass shower panels, only several feet in front.

"Austria, get out —!" Vash inherently screamed, a knee flying upwards to hide his previous actions.

Roderich stood stark. "Charming," he huffed. "I'm pleased to see you too."

Vash screamed again. "I said get out! I'm _showering_ for fuck sake!" Amidst his turmoil it took a moment for the Swiss to realise Roderich was hardly wearing much clothing either; all the man donned was his pair of boxers from the night before and a button-up blouse draped over his shoulders like it were some crude, makeshift cape. He looked scruffy.

"Obviously," Roderich rubbed an eye. "Does it matter though? We've already seen each other nake—"

"Yes, it matters!" Vash butted in harshly. His face resembled a tomato.

"Why," Austria stepped closer, blinking against the steam. Vash's eyes were compelled to his bare chest as he moved, curtained by white fabric like napkins beside a dinner-plate. "Were you doing something in there?"

_"No!"_

"Oh, perhaps you were . . ."

"I wasn't!"

Roderich sighed. "Sorry. I'll go then."

"No."

"What?"

Vash flinched. "Wait, I didn't —tsk. I meant yes. You can go already, please and thankyou," he said gruffly, mentally slapping himself.

_Idiot._

But the Austrian didn't move. He simply looked at Vash through a pair of pastel-violet irises, which traced the soaking body behind the glass. "Do you . . . want any help?" Roderich eventually asked, his voice calm.

Vash slunk awkwardly into a corner. "No! I'm tired of you helping me," he said, face a deep scarlet against the wall of running water. "Please just leave."

"I heard you swear earlier," Roderich continued. "Quite loudly."

"That was nothing."

"I see."

"You're still here."

"And you're still . . . _like that,"_ said Roderich.

Vash hadn't noticed he'd let his leg drop, exposing the heated sex which he held in a clumsy hand. "D —don't look there!" He stammered.

_This isn't good. I simply can't deal with this._

_Look at him, all rugged and lazy. His mouth is quivering. Is he trying to speak? His lips, they—_

_His lips._

Vash caught himself wanting to kiss them. He wanted to feel that silky press just one more time, and the gentle hum which came with it. Rough or soft, he didn't care. He craved Austria's music.

  Gently, his hand came away from its hold.

_Why am I like this?_

Roderich shrugged away his blouse, putting a tepid hand to the shower handle. There was a coy look on his face. "I'm coming in anyway," he declared.

Vash grew diffident, though didn't protest as Roderich tugged the boxers from his hips and stepped inside, joining the blond. A glass door swung shut. They were naked. Together.

"This is . . . stupid," Vash glanced away, embarrassed.

"Is it?" Roderich toyed, dark hair matting over his pristine complexion. He looked at Vash with a smirk. "Tell me, is this stupid?"

  Vash coiled as Roderich trod nearer, though it was a matter of seconds before he felt the grip of the other man's feathery hands. He was instantly tamed. Rosy, twisted galaxies of last night flashed briefly before Vash's eyes once more —and for a moment he experienced every touch, every buzzing kiss, every wild symphony they'd shared all over again. He remembered the way he'd wanted Austria so deeply . . . and found himself wanting again.

_To hell with it._

Roderich's toned body had become sleek with water —inducing several flutters inside the shorter man before him. Vash was clearly enthralled. "You can never be calm, can you?" Roderich said. He started to pull, back and forth. "Allow me."

Vash sighed. White clouds piled around them, suffocatingly so, bringing the two so close it rendered them breathless.

The Austrian cupped Vash's length with a palm as he jerked him off; it slipped over so easily, hot water slicking the wrinkled skin. Like handling a melted candle.

Smack, smack—

_"Uhff . . ."_ a single syrupy moan was released, warm and persuading to Roderich's ear. He hiked up the speed.

Vash pushed back against the tiled wall, Roderich's face a mere inch or so from his own. A wet kiss was shared between them for a few sweet seconds; the Swiss's tongue gently caressing the inside of Roderich's mouth, as if to thank him. Neither spoke. There was only dripping, smacking and the muffled whimpers of pleasure.

"Ahh~"

"Mmn—"

Vash grasped the Austrian, his chin resting on the larger man's shoulders. "Ugh. Yes, _yes—"_ his vocal chords fluttered as his chest slammed into Roderich's; their hearts were beating into each other. The pulling hardened. Vash felt his own length being fondled in ways he'd never even done himself. "Fucking hell—!"

Roderich raised a free hand and trailed Vash's ribs with wavering fingers. The blond emitted a feeble croak, reeling into himself as his body was overcome with a clammy, yanking pleasure. It was too good; simply divine. 

Their foreheads were pressed together. Vash was close. Roderich locked in, feeling the shorter man's tender breath billow over his neck —fast and rough as he worked the trigger. That's it. 

_That's it._

_"Tsk! Fuck you—!"_ Switzerland mewled in lust as he eventually came into Austria's enclosed fingers. The feeling wasn't an unfamiliar one.

Roderich released his hand, the water washing it clean before he could. "There," he said as gazed down at Vash's scrunched face. Adorable. "You're done."

Vash craned his neck. "I hate you," he said exhaustedly, leaning in with parted lips.

Roderich greeted the kiss as if it were chocolate. It was passionate, sweet to the tongue; the kind he adored from the Swiss man. "Mmn," he moaned into his savoury mouth, pausing only to suck or graze, lapping up every ounce of saliva. "I hate you too." The two bodies intertwined, feeling each other up and down with watery, ever-wandering touches. Neither cared how much their hands pruned or limbs ached. There came another whisper. "Gott damn, Vash."

"You shut up."

For a while, wet kissing drowned out the sound of the shower. It was both giving and taking, wanting and needing. Vash bit softly on Roderich's lip, tugging and stretching it like a rubber band before letting go. His flesh tasted like sleepy sighs and morning dew.

_Lord._

Amongst the tremble a sultry grope was made on Vash's waist —him stroking Roderich's thighs or copping a feel at the brunette's ass in return. That's how things went: no action was without its counter. Nothing slipped either's attention.

"A —Austria . . ." Vash stammered the nation's name, his eyes having fallen. He pulled away from Roderich's mouth; something else had snatched his attention.

The brunet instantly realised. "Vash, you don't have to . . ." though his words were dragged off by a string of uncertainty.

Vash knew that he shouldn't; oh how he knew. It was warped, wrong. All of it was. But some wild entity in him desired it as a moth desired the ripe, roaring flame. "Quiet," he said sternly. "I'm my own man, you know." Then he dropped to his knees, heels against the wall and one hand firmly on Roderich's thigh —his other gripped the Austrian's now thick and throbbing cock, only centimetres from his lowered face.

"Is this you thanking me?" Roderich said with a satisfied smile, setting a gentle hand on Vash's blond head.

"Probably," Vash said tartly as he slipped his lips over Roderich's sex. He stuck a firm tongue against it, pressing the length to the roof of his mouth as if it were a fleshy, salted breadstick.

Instantaneously, Roderich let out a gasp. _"Oh, my—"_ Vash's mouth was warm and tight in all the right places. He felt those inner cheeks clamp down against his cock, snuggling the skin.

Vash drew his mouth out slowly, tongue grazing the underside as he went. "Mmn," he made a sound, savouring the flavour of Austrian. His gemstone eyes then shot up momentarily, warning. "I swear, the neighbours better not hear you moan."

Roderich grew even harder. "Ugh, they won't," he assured, impatience bubbling away in his chest. 

The Swiss blinked away and began lapping at the tip of Roderich's cock; his way of a sensual appetiser. The edge of his tongue curled and danced over it, eliciting several stifled grunts from the Austrian. 

_Slip, lick, kiss_ —Vash even paused to stamp several pecks along Roderich's length. It left his lips buzzing. _What am I doing? Why such vulgar actions again?_

_Tsk. Suppose I'll have to finish now._

Roderich's voice bounced off the shower panels, "St —ahh, stop teasing."

Then Vash smiled to himself. He let Roderich's cock slither in a little further —steadily, tightly— enveloping it in hot, slick saliva as he began to slide back and forth. A playful lap was made here and there, connivingly so that it had Roderich on the edge of begging for more each time —though Vash always came back at just the right moments, guzzling the length like a hungry dog.

_"Fhack —!"_ Roderich moaned into a bawled fist. He bucked his hips, forcing himself as far into Vash's cavern as possible. And he bucked hard.

In, out.  
In, out  
In, out. 

The blond restrained a choke, breathing harshly through his nose as he sucked in the ramming cock. "Urrrgh," he let out flustered vocals, bitter yet sweet. It occurred to him that he was sucking off the man he'd claimed to have hated most —and there was something about that. Something so irritably hot.

"You can only blame yourself for this," Roderich said. "You're rather —ahh!— rather mindless, aren't y —you Switzerland? _Shit!"_

Vash hummed over Austria's heated cock, brows puckered. _"Mmngg—"_ he almost spluttered for a moment, gagging on the tip which pecked at the back of his throat. _Ugh. I can't believe this._

Roderich's moans grew louder and louder, slamming against the bathroom walls and filling Vash's head. "That's it," he huffed. "That's —mmn!— _Ja, thats it!"_ Both his hands had migrated down to force the smaller man over his length; he'd been stripped of his aristocratic demeanour and painted over with ideals of lust and wild, indecent cravings for that Swiss mouth. Every corner of it was a whole other world of sloppy, masculine divinity. 

Vash laboured himself to swallow the inches of Roderich's beating shaft. Saliva was drawn from his mouth, then thrusted back over his face again with every forceful stroke. Rhythmic and hungry. A passion drove Vash onwards —compelling him to feast on the cock which returned for countless courses, no matter how tired he grew. His jaw and cheeks ached. Though he knew the deed wasn't quite done with.

Roderich spoke again. "Gott, I —I think I'll cum soon," his tone was a whimpering bleat; like a little goat. "Ahh, Vash—!"

Vash gorged and slobbered, drawing everything Roderich had right to the tip, right to the very edge. He let the taller man use him as he pleased. "Nnng, mmm," the Swiss muffled —which was mouthful-of-dick for 'Do whatever.'

Roderich's insides felt molten, a river of heat meandering down towards his cock. Vash's lips made a tight ring over him, sucking out his juices as if through a straw whilst he pumped and pumped. The sensation barrelled through. "Ah, Vash —ahh! Bitte! _I'm—!"_

And then Austria came.

Vash held his mouth over Roderich's spent cock, greedily suckling the cream which cascaded out. He swallowed, feeling it all the way down; it drizzled along his throat and into his stomach, smooth and warm and zesty. He wanted to make sure it all went in, leaving nothing —because wasting was a terrible thing.

"Vash!" Roderich exclaimed, not having anticipated he would take the lot.

The Swiss finished his mouthful. He drew away, leaving a silvery trail of saliva across Roderich's length; the Austrian had tasted of butter and salty oceans.

Roderich tutted. "You're impossible."

"Mmn. Whatever," said Vash, wiping his mouth clean with a wrist and staggering to a stand. He was kippered. "I'm out."

Roderich caught his breath. "Out?"

"Yes. Out," Vash clarified. He slipped narrowly past Roderich and placed a pruned hand to the shower door —creaking it open. "Your water-bill is going to be through the roof."

_And if I stay too long I'll probably get hard all over again._

Roderich looked a little crestfallen, though what the Swiss said was perhaps true; he decided not to stop him. "Suit yourself," said Roderich. "I'd say I've gotten my money's worth." The Austrian then faced away, proceeding to lather a bar of soap between his palms.

Bubbly froth spattered the shower floor and filled the air with a sweet, homey scent —the same scent that had blanketed Roderich's skin last night, Vash found. What was it? Rose? Peony?

_Who cares._

"Alright," Vash said, blowing a wet strand of hair from his forehead as he stepped out; the door glided itself shut. His body, touched with cold, began to ache again. "You're the fool here, anyway —wasting your resources on me."

"Well this shower was at least better than the one last night, was it not?" Roderich's voice chuffed from behind a sheet of steam. "Or would you have preferred to freeze in your own rain-soddened clothes?"

Vash tutted. "No." He wrapped himself with a fresh towel that'd hung from a silver rail, just beside the shower. A glimpse of Roderich's form leaked into the corner of his eye as he did so, coated in watery beads and smokey tendrils — _ugh. He's hot._

Roderich sighed, convinced.

Without further words Vash walked out of the bathroom, footsteps deafened by a plush carpet. He'd hoped to have come out of the shower feeling a little cleaner —a naive idea that'd proven to be.

***


	5. Epilogue— Old Friends, New Habits.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cue the peachy ending (⁎⁍̴̛͂▿⁍̴̛͂⁎)*✲ﾟ*｡⋆♡ོ

About forty minutes later, as Roderich arrived downstairs he found Vash to be occupied with a newspaper. The Swiss was poised at the kitchen table, leaning over it rather than choosing to sit down. He held a teacup in one hand, which he'd promptly taken a sip from the moment Roderich entered.

"Comfortable, ja?" Said Austria. Switzerland glared at him over a bone-china rim. "I see you've made yourself tea."

Vash swallowed. "Yours is over there."

"Oh?" 

"On the other side of the table," Vash elaborated with a slight redness. "Unless you don't want it."

A second cup sat charmingly upon a saucer not far from the shorter man, catching Roderich's eye. "Of course I want it," he smiled to himself, traversing the long room. Birdsong crept in from outside.

The light of a nine o'clock sun filtered trough the windows in succulent rays, feeding the kitchen with an almost golden glow —Roderich couldn't help but notice how particularly radiant Vash looked beneath it. The Swiss had on the same clothes from yesterday, except dried and crinkled. All but his trench coat and boots. His hair was half-dry and fluffy, with little wires protruding here and there, the colour of clean straw softly framing his face. Two emeralds flickered back and forth from the pages in front of him, oblivious to Roderich's contented staring.

"So what do you reckon I should do with my walls?" The Austrian started, taking a seat. He was wearing a lilac waistcoat over a freshly-ironed blouse, smart trousers donning his slender legs.

"Excuse me?"

"You know," Roderich placed a delicate hand to his cup handle; the tea smelled good. "Since I was going to get rid of the old pictures."

"I don't care," Vash looked up and snorted.

"Is that so? I mean I could always put up some of us instead."

The newspaper was suddenly flown across the table, drifting from its edge and scattering to the floor in a flurry of crinkles. Quietness followed. "Why would you do that?" Vash questioned, his eyes narrowing. "Regardless, I refuse."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want you having me pasted up amongst your shitty house."

Roderich took a cautious sip of tea. "Huh."

_"Huh?"_

"You'll have sex with me, yet you won't admit your feelings," the Austrian said. His head rose. "It's odd."

Vash recoiled. Almost repulsed. "And what does that have to do with your walls?"

"Everything."

"It doesn't."

"You've always been this way, haven't you?"

"Do you want me to leave? Because I will."

Roderich's teacup clinked against the saucer. "You won't."

Vash bit his lip, reluctant. "Fine. If you get as many kicks from interrogating me as you do with fucking, then by all means."

Roderich laughed. "You're warming up to me, aren't you?"

"Is that your first question?" Vash eyed the other with daggers. If only he still kept that newspaper —no doubt he'd have erected a black and white guard over his face; Austria's attention was gnawing at him now.

"No. My first question was if you've felt like this the whole time we've known each other," said Roderich. "Because honestly, I think that's very much the case."

"That's ridiculous."

"You got jealous yesterday, I could tell."

"Hmpf!" Vash stood away from the table's edge, as if Roderich's words had struck a nerve. "So did you."

"No I didn't."

"You're quite frankly jealous of Liechtenstein and I."

"Absolutely not!" Roderich retorted with a pompous tone. "Why ever would I be? Admittedly, the girl is very rich —but I can't see any other reason to envy her."

"Now you're the one dodging," said Vash.

A grated sigh made its way past Roderich's lips. He slid a hand through his damp hair, feeling drops of sweat that'd formed on his forehead. "I suppose you're right," he puffed. "Sorry. It's simply hard, you know? Having fostered such feelings for a painful amount of time."

"What?" Vash was stark.

Roderich took another sip of tea. "I'm sure you can relate. Can't you?"

"I—"

"What you said about me taking your hand; it's stuck with me since last night," the Austrian continued, a rosy dust brightening his face. "And I should've realised sooner. I should've known how you felt all those years. I'm sorry. When Elizabeth and I got married you must've been so . . . so—"

_*thwak—*_

Vash had reached over and slapped him. "Shut up. Who cares about that?" His voice was rough like bark.

"Tsk. You obviously do!" Roderich seethed, pressing a hand against his raw cheek. "As do I."

"I just —" Vash faltered. "I'd never been like that with anyone else. I don't know why. What we had just felt different, though there's really nothing special to it. I was young and air-headed."

"You're still one of those," said Roderich.

"Don't you start!"

Roderich leaned over the table, chest brushing it's wooden surface as he chipped away at the space between them. "Well I want you to know the feeling's very much mutual. If only I'd known, things may have played out differently back then," he stated, breathy and sincere. His eyes softened. "I think I lo—"

Vash quietened him with a kiss; dry and cotton. A hand had strayed from his side and perched itself upon Roderich's, like it boasted some mind of its own. "Don't say such things," the Swiss warned as their lips unstuck. "It's unprofessional."

A warmth buzzed against their touching skin; the tea was long-since forgotten, left to cool within the china cups. "Fair enough," said Roderich.

"We shouldn't talk about this anymore. If things like this develop the other nations would surely find out."

"True. That would be unprofessional."

Vash squeezed the Austrian's hand. He looked down, "It feels good to do this again though."

Their fingers intertwined. "It does," Roderich said.

The weather outside was clear and balmy, distant fields rippling under a soft breeze. Mountains loomed over peacefully like stone sentries guarding their paradise. Vash exhaled; "I have to get home," he said as he gazed through the glass. "Liechtenstein is going to be wondering why I didn't return."

Roderich nodded. "I understand."

"Thanks for the tea."

"My pleasure." 

Vash brought his hand away, rising into a long and spine-crackling stretch. "I'll be taking my leave now. Goodbye." A gaze trailed him as he ambled off, heading for the green trench coat which waited on its hook. He didn't feel bothered anymore as he made his way through the halls, dotted with eyes which sprang from the numerous photos; if anything, he felt smug.

And then he was at the door. _I guess that's it._

"You're forgetting these," Roderich's voice drummed against his ears. Vash looked back and was greeted by a nod; the other man carrying five shopping bags as he approached with weighted steps.

"Oh, right," Vash acknowledged. He took his coat from the hook and hastily forced his arms through its sleeves. The thick material was still a little soggy inside, though he daren't complain —as soon as he arrived home he'd put it all in the wash. _Maybe I'll spend the day with Liechtenstein._ There's no way I can do any more manual labour for at least another week.

Roderich waited until Vash had additionally gotten his boots on —they didn't want a repeat of the clutter last night. "Here," he put the bags into Vash's outstretched arms; some were a little cold from the fridge. "Everything should still be fresh," he assured.

"Thanks."

"You're going now?"

"Yes."

Roderich reached past to swing open the door. The handle twisted and a fragrant breeze washed into the house, carrying an orchestra of birds and rustling trees. Everything about Austria seemed to be some beautiful symphony, Vash thought.

The blond stepped through, feeling the wind on his face and hair. "This was nice, I guess," he said without looking back. "Maybe I'll come in more often."

"You'd better," said Roderich. There was a grin in his tone. "Lets hope my cheese isn't as atrocious as you thought."

"Pfft. I doubt it."

"Well if you end up not liking it, I'll at least know you're returning for something else."

Vash's cheeks bloomed with red roses. He was thankful the other couldn't see his face. "Whatever."

Roderich breathed in, calming the flutter within his ribcage. "See you, then," he drew away from the doorstep.

An anticipation hung over them, the wind thick with sweet nothings and lingering emotions. Two stubborn souls had given in to their own selfish wiles last night. Both would remember the other's roaming touch for decades to come, the sultry memories drifting like lilies amongst a stream, just as clearly as when they'd sat on that bench against the mountains, hand-in-hand all those years ago.

The two had found each other again. At last.

Vash finally turned to see Roderich in the space between door and frame, a subtle smile sitting beside the little mole on his cheek. Quite adorable.

The door shut gently.

"Yeah. See you."

***

It was almost eleven o' clock.

"Brüder, you were gone so long!" Liechtenstein chirruped. She'd dropped her broomstick the very moment she heard her brother's footsteps. Her girlish dress fluttered at the hems as she bounded over.

"Yeah, sorry," Vash apologised, sighing when he entered through the living room. "Have you been cleaning in here?" He'd been dubious about whether or not remove his coat, as it's collar was all that hid the hickey on his neck. In the end though, he felt best to hide the mark from his younger sister.

The small girl beamed up at him, "Yes. I thought I'd make the place look nice for you before you came back." Her voice was refreshing to hear again, like droplets of milk and honey.

"That's helpful. Thankyou," Vash managed a smile. He set his purchases upon the table and peered down, trying to figure out which bag Roderich had placed each item in. It was all a little unorganised.

_Tsk. Lousy Austrian._

"Oh, did you get it?" Liechtenstein asked, hovering over her brother's shoulder. She was inquiring about the cheese.

Vash hummed. "I did. It's somewhere in here."

"Thankyou so much! It wasn't too much trouble going to Mr. Austria's place was it?"

"Not at all."

"You were there for a long time, I noticed," Liech said. "And I almost got worried when I saw the weather warning, but then I remembered Big Brüder wouldn't get hurt or anything. You always know what to do!"

"Mmn. Is this it? Oh —no, that's the wrong cheese," Vash muttered to himself while he rummaged.

"So . . . did you find somewhere to stay?"

"I uhm, yes. I did."

"Where?" The girl tilted her head, looping a finger through a lock of her short, golden hair. "Oh! Was it Mr. Austria's house? Are you two friends again?"

"No!" Vash's hands clutched tight to the paper bag he was busy with.

"Oh, I see. Why not?"

"You ask a lot of questions. Ah —here it is."

"Thankyou dearly!" Liechtenstein squeaked as Vash handed the cheese over to her —Austrian-smoked. "I could make us something with this."

"You sure you know how to work all the appliances?" Asked Vash.

She nodded. "I think so."

"Well, if that'd make you happy."

"It would!"

As his sister skipped jovially out of the room, Vash threw himself to the couch. A million things were throbbing about in his head: cheese, weather, photos, Austrians. The lot. "Fuck, I'm tired," he grumbled. Various aches in places served as quaint reminders of the things he'd gotten up to —things he'd certainly never forget.

And things he'd likely do again.

"Oh, Brüder?" Liech's voice returned from a corner somewhere.

"What is it?"

"I was wondering if you wanted tea or anything?"

_. . . Tea._

Vash lay still against the cushions, his eyes facing a white ceiling.  "No thankyou," he replied with a husk. A hand was placed over his chest. "I think I've had enough tea lately."

 

∬ END ∬

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you all liked! this is my first attempt at a smut without my own original characters. i apologise for any mistakes or lousy grammar used! i'll definitely be looking through this after it's published and will likely get round to fixing errors i find and making overall improvements!
> 
> thankyou for reading ❤︎


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